A Nice Day Out
by ALEO
Summary: It was just going to be a nice day out on a boat helping his brother on a math project. At least that's how it started … COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

**Numb3rs: A Nice Day Out**

**Disclaimer** – I don't own them, I just borrowed them. Numb3rs and its characters are the property of those that created them. No copyright infringement intended. All real organisations are used in a fictional sense. Original characters and the storyline are mine however.

It was just going to be a nice day out on a boat helping his brother on a math project. At least that's how it started …

_A/N: The real USCG vessel __Seahawk__ is stationed at Carrabelle FL, according to the internet anyway. I made the name up then found the real boat. I kept the name, I liked it. I tried to research the layout of the 87' coastal patrol boats but there is not much information available, courtesy of DHS's security precautions no doubt. I've done what I could for accuracy but for those in the know please accept errors as artistic licence._

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Special Agent Don Eppes of the LA FBI leant over the railing and watched as the rescued men came aboard. Beside him his brother kept up a monologue complaining of the interruption to his studies.

"We have to run that whole last series again now. All that data useless, it had to be done in order, in sequence." Professor Charles Eppes said for the tenth time since they had diverted course.

"C'mon Charlie, you didn't seriously expect them to ignore the mayday."

Charlie turned his back on the activity at the stern. "No. Coast Guard and all, I should have expected this to happen."

They were onboard a 87' 'Marine Protector' Class US Coast Guard cutter some nautical miles well off the coast of LA, far enough out to sea that they had long since lost sight of land. They had been working on a project that Charlie had wanted to get to for some time, ever since the Chinese girls had washed ashore almost a year ago. With the search for the racing yacht that had sunk a few months back serving as a reminder, Charlie's motivation to more thoroughly map the offshore currents had been boosted. He'd mentioned the project to Millie, his boss, who had thought the idea had some merit. She had then mentioned it to the regional Coast Guard Commander who also thought that the idea had merit, their maps were starting to get old and the sea floor was constantly in flux. One thing had led to another until finally it had all come together today.

Don had cleared up a case a few days ago and completed all the paperwork yesterday. He had granted himself a rare day off. Dinner at Charlie's last night had resulted in him being pounced on and invited out to sea today. He'd initially resisted the idea but then decided, _why not?_ A day off should be a day off and if he was at sea he couldn't be called in. Besides, it had been some time since he'd been on a boat and he admitted to himself that he had been looking at the boats in the marina in longing last time he'd driven past.

"Any boat has to respond to a mayday, Charlie. You know that." Don reminded his younger brother. Despite the complaint he knew Charlie didn't mean any of it.

"I know, but why today? It was all starting to come together so well." Charlie looked down at the cutter's stern from their vantage point on the small deck at the rear of the bridge. He watched as his four undergrad students were finishing packing away the last of the buoys they had been using. They'd been secured in a hurry en-route to the distressed vessel and only now did they have the chance to lock them down properly, the rough ride through the increasing swells at high speed had made it difficult to get anything done. The latest weather report transmitted to them a short time ago had predicted rapidly deteriorating conditions. It happened sometimes, the weather predictions all good in the morning until Mother Nature decided to throw a curve ball.

"We were running out of time anyway." Don pointed out, lifting his chin towards the setting sun. "It would have only been another hour before we headed in." That hour and more was now gone, taken up by heading miles further out to sea chasing the mayday to the swamped vessel. The sun was already dipping below the horizon. The conditions hadn't been as bad closer inshore where they had been working before the call for help.

Their pre-planned schedule had already been off. They had been delayed in putting out to sea, some of the students had been caught in traffic, then the minor fault on the _Seahawk_ which the lieutenant captaining her had decided to rectify whilst waiting. Subsequently instead of steaming out on the dawn they hadn't left harbour until after 8:30am. Charlie had been all set to call it off but the lieutenant had promised to get the _Seahawk_ on site within the hour and, with the throttles pushed well forward to run at her rated top speed of 25 knots, had managed to do so. That run had been so much smoother, the sea had been like glass that early in the day, unlike the last hour or so.

Charlie really had nothing to complain about, he'd gathered a lot of data which Don knew he'd spend the next few weeks poring over in his non-contact teaching time. As the cutter wasn't due to head back to San Francisco for a couple of more days he didn't think there would be any problem with repeating the final few runs tomorrow. Assuming the weather cooperated.

"I know but we nearly had it all." Charlie sighed and looked at the half submerged power boat off their stern quarter, the much larger Coast Guard boat positioned to provide it as much shelter as possible. "Are we going to tow that all the way in?"

"Looks like." The zodiac had gone back out and her crew were just finishing securing a tow line to the bow of the moderate sized power boat. "Can't exactly leave it floating around as a hazard to shipping."

"I was supposed to go out to dinner with Amita." Charlie said finally after a few more minutes.

"Ah, a hot date." Don smiled, now they got to the real reason for Charlie's grumbles. "So why didn't she come today anyway?"

"She had a panel meeting she couldn't get out of."

"I'm sure Lieutenant Dylan will let you use the sat-phone." They were far enough out now that cell phone reception would be somewhat patchy even with the additional height of the bridge deck. Although the thought of Charlie standing on one leg, hanging onto the railing and trying all those other crazy manoeuvres people did to get a cell signal was amusing, the conditions were getting a little rough for that.

"Hey, yeah." Charlie immediately brightened and headed off into the bridge to see the woman in question. Both he and Don due to their security clearances had free access to the bridge at the invitation of the commanding officer, Lieutenant Sarah Dylan. The grad students had been barred during their pre-sail safety briefing.

Don turned his attention back to the stern as the three rescued men were seated in the lee of some equipment, wrapped in blankets and drinking from steaming mugs. They'd only been in the water for a short time, but with the steadily increasing swells and rising wind Don was sure they were cold despite the warm air. A few minutes later the three men were directed into the mess deck. Don lingered just a little longer watching with interest as the zodiac was run into the cutter's mini-dock and secured, the stern hull section lowered into place and water pumped out. As he headed back into the shelter of the bridge he felt the increased vibrations from the engines. They were getting underway for their slow journey back to port.

Don stepped through the door into the bridge, pulling it shut behind him, impressed again by the quiet efficiency of the crew as they monitored the various instruments. Charlie was at the sat-phone speaking quietly. Don continued through and down the narrow companion-way continuing along the short corridor beside the galley to get to the mess deck proper. He helped himself to the coffee pot before sitting himself in a corner berth. The undergrads had finished their work and were sitting at one of the other tables but Don sat quietly by himself observing as the crew's medic fussed over the men on the opposite side of the room. Despite being on a day off he was curious. He wasn't sure why but they didn't look like casual boaters, nor should they have been this far out, this late, for a day trip.

The men were all in their late twenties and clean shaven. Each was well dressed in quality jeans and button down shirts. _A little too formal_, Don thought, _for a day out in a boat_. Even he was wearing a plain t-shirt with an old pair of jeans. His badge, gun and cell phone were all in his backpack in the little cabin Charlie and his students had been given to store their personal gear. There was nothing to make it obvious what he was, he could have passed as a student in fact. If they weren't all at least fifteen years younger than him that was. He was also the only one not wearing a CalSci t-shirt, even Charlie was wearing one.

Speak of the devil, Don looked up as Charlie stopped beside him. "I see you got through."

"I had to leave a message, looks like the meeting's running late." Charlie sounded disappointed. "I also rang Dad and told him what's happening. Since you're not going to be back for dinner he's calling Millie."

Don had been looking forward to having home-made lasagne, a cold beer and watching the game with his father. Don let out a long breath, _best laid plans and all that_. "Did Lieutenant Dylan give any indication how late we are going to be?"

"She thinks it will be about six hours. We can't make much speed with that sea anchor behind us."

Don nodded. He'd expected as much. Still, it had been a very nice day and he was glad he'd decided to come. The relaxation he'd had today was more than going to make up for the few hours less sleep he'd get tonight. "Gives you time to get to work then."

"Assuming my students aren't too busy." Charlie said raising his voice slightly. He had earlier set up his charts and his laptop on the last remaining table, the largest one. He could have used the chartroom but the mess deck had more space and a better view, the chartroom didn't have external windows. Not that there was much of a view now, the lights were on and the windows were rapidly darkening and throwing back their reflections now that the sun had gone.

There were some good natured groans as the students finished off their drinks and dragged out their own laptops and got to work. Don chuckled as he settled himself further back in his seat nursing his coffee. It had been fun helping toss the buoys over the side and retrieve them as the day wore on. The real work, analysing the data, was well over his head and he was glad he could just chill out and watch everyone else work for a change. He braced himself as they rolled in the swells, the change in direction and their slow pace was making the ride back in rougher than the ride out had been. He expected it would eventually ease once they returned to the more sheltered waters closer in to shore.

By the time he'd finished his coffee the rescued men had been escorted below to a cabin to rest up. One had given him a bit of an odd look as they passed. Don thought no more about it as he helped himself to another coffee, _really_ _got to cut back on this stuff_. He lounged back and listened contentedly as the students and Charlie argued numbers. _Perhaps he could swap from the FBI to the Coast Guard, this was definitely the life_.

Half an hour later the crew served up dinner. It hadn't been part of the deal but as they weren't going to be back this side of midnight a scratch up meal was made for all of them. It wasn't Dad's lasagne but was tasty and did the job. Some portions were taken below for the rescued men.

Another peaceful hour passed but the motion of the cutter hadn't yet eased. However, aside from the odd larger wave, it wasn't so rough that combined with a full stomach and what he considered to be his rising immunity to caffeine, the conditions started to make Don feel sleepy. If he dumped all their backpacks onto the floor he was sure he could make room for a nap on one of the two bunks in their assigned cabin. That decided he waved at Charlie miming he was going to have a sleep and took himself below, navigating the narrow companion-way and corridor to their cabin. He had to stop once, bracing himself as the cutter fell into what he called a 'pothole', a deeper than average trough between waves before rising again.

Stifling a yawn he was about to pull open the sliding door when he heard voices. He sighed and gently banged his forehead against the wall, he just couldn't help it. He didn't need the badge and gun to be an FBI agent, it was what he was. He had to go and eavesdrop, his intuition was telling him something was wrong. The voices were coming from the only three berth stateroom onboard, located at the end of the corridor, all the other cabins were two berth. Don moved the few yards closer to the bow and stopped just outside the closed door, leaning against the wall.

"You've got to be crazy." One man was saying.

"Well, what do you suggest?" Another said.

"Not that." The first replied. "There's no need. It's not like we could pull it off anyway."

"We don't have a choice. I told you what he is."

"But he didn't recognise you."

"He will."

"It was years ago. He wouldn't expect to see you out here."

"You don't know him, he doesn't forget."

"So? We just stay out of his way and he won't have cause to remember. We hightail it once we hit land. By the time he works it out we will be long gone."

"We can't take the chance. They're still out there waiting, the longer we do nothing the further away they will be."

"And what do you think they would do when they see the Coast Guard bearing down on them?"

"We radio them, idiot."

"Yeah, right. Like they'd be listening."

"Alright, we run them down." The second man argued. "It's what the Coast Guard does best."

"They run away, it's what they do best. They don't have that engine for nothing."

There was the sound like snapping fingers. "Then we ring them. They have a phone."

"Sat-phone. There's no cell reception out here, I've already tried."

"The Coast Guard has a sat-phone." A third voice said.

There was a pause as the first two men stopped arguing, it seemed that the third had just won the point. Don replayed it in his mind. They knew what they were talking about but Don could only guess, putting the few facts he'd overheard together. The group of over-dressed men from the stricken power boat were obviously heading out to meet a second, very powerful, boat miles offshore. There was the next interesting fact that the second boat would run upon sighting the Coast Guard. Along with the third fact that it sounded like one had recognised him and expected to be recognised in return, Don came to a conclusion. Drug runners. Worse, drug runners who were arguing about doing something involving the Coast Guard. _That couldn't be good_.

Don started to turn to go back down the corridor, intending to head towards his cabin and his gun. There was also an internal phone he could use to call Lieutenant Dylan and have her break out some handguns and send some men down to back him up. Or rather, he'd back them up, it was Dylan's boat and she had jurisdiction.

The _Seahawk_ took that moment to drop into another 'pothole'. But this trough was accompanied by a steeper wall of water on the exit. The _Seahawk_ staggered as her bow dug in before she stated to rise and corkscrewed. Don unbalanced in mid-turn, lost his footing, bounced off the wall and fell forwards to the hit the deck a few feet from the cabin door. The door to the three berth cabin flew open at the same time; obviously it hadn't been secured on the latch properly. The three men gaped at the eavesdropper as the agent tried to scramble to his feet, _oh shit_.

Against the three of them in the confined space Don didn't stand a chance. They were on him before he could get fully upright smashing him back to the carpeted deck. He landed a few good hits but they got some in of their own. After a solid blow that split his lower lip and had him seeing a few stars the men backed off. As his vision cleared he saw why, one man had produced a large automatic pistol. It was pointed as steadily at him as the conditions allowed. He stopped moving, sitting braced against the corridor wall as he wondered what they were going to do next.

"Hello, FBI." The one with the gun said. His was the third voice.

"I don't suppose you'd hand that over if I told you 'you're under arrest'?" Don asked hopefully, rubbing his sore jaw.

"Hah!" The man was amused but sobered immediately, gesturing with the gun towards the cabin. "Move."

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	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer** – I don't own them, I just borrowed them. Numb3rs and its characters are the property of those that created them. No copyright infringement intended. All real organisations are used in a fictional sense. Original characters and the storyline are mine however.

_CHAPTER TWO_

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_So much for the nice day_, Don thought. He made it to his feet and keeping a hand on the wall for support he stepped into the cabin. His feet were then tripped out from under him and he sprawled back onto the deck as the door slammed shut. Hands pulled his shirt up, going over his waist before patting at his ankles, checking for weapons but finding nothing. The search over Don sat up and watched as the one of the men properly secured the door before they all took up seats braced on the bunks. Standing on the unstable deck was not a good idea, especially as all three men were now holding pistols. Don thought it was a tad overkill, but he was hardly in a position to argue. He wondered where they got the guns from then noticed that the bag that one had brought onboard with them from their sinking boat was sitting open on a bunk.

"You fire one of those and the crew will be on you in seconds." Don warned.

"But you'll be dead." The man who first produced a gun said.

_True_, Don chalked the point up to him. "So what now?"

"You remember me yet, Fed?" The second man said.

Don turned his head to the man with the bleached blonde hair. There was something familiar about him but he couldn't place it yet. "Your name might help."

"Anton. Anton Spinks."

Ah, yes he did remember now, that would explain the less than friendly tone. The hair had been dark brown back then, not dyed. He and Terry had pinched Spinks for drug trafficking three and a half years ago only to see him get off on a technicality six months later at the trial. Spinks had then disappeared off the radar and Don had forgotten about him. "So you didn't leave LA after all."

"Nah. Too good here."

"So who are your friends?"

"What do you think this is Fed, a tea party?" Spinks waggled his gun.

"Hardly." Don braced himself against another lurch of the _Seahawk_. "But you know who I am and we're obviously going to spend some quality time together."

Spinks looked to the man seated closest to the door, the one who had pulled the gun in the corridor. Don got the feeling he was the leader.

"Call me Tom." The leader said.

"So where do we go from here, Tom?" Don asked.

"'Where' is the thing." Tom said pulling out a GPS. He pointed at the phone mounted on the wall. "You know how to work that to call the captain?"

"This is nuts." The other man interrupted. His had been the voice arguing against Spinks' plan earlier. "There are ten of them and only three of us. Plus they got an arsenal locked away somewhere."

Don thought that was the wisest thing he'd heard from any of them so far. Their three handguns against the _Seahawk's_ arsenal of three M-16s, two riot shotguns and six 9mm pistols. Enough weapons to arm the entire crew of ten with one gun spare.

"Shut-up, Cam." Spinks said. "They won't do nothing with a fed hostage. Isn't that right, Fed?"

Regrettably, Spinks was right. Another point to the bad guys. "Yeah."

"We should wait until we get in to the marina then he's our ticket out of here." Cam persisted.

_Definitely the smartest of the three_. It was the plan Don would have gone with in their position, simple and guaranteed to work with the element of surprise on their side. The Coast Guard's weapons would all be locked up and there would be no armed opposition.

"No. We go with Anton's plan." Tom fiddled with the GPS but it wasn't able to receive a signal with all the metal of the _Seahawk's_ superstructure between the instrument and the satellites.

"So where is that?" Don indicated the GPS, assuming Tom had a waypoint set.

"A few miles back that way. The boat we were going to meet."

They'd left it too long if they still wanted to meet their friends. "You think they'd really still be hanging around out there waiting for you? In this?"

Tom seemed to concede that this time Don was right. Point to Don. He looked to his men then back at his prisoner. "Maybe we need to ring them first."

Don nearly snorted at how ridiculous that sounded. If things weren't so serious he would have. But now was not the time or place, these three were actually planning to hijack the Coast Guard cutter. There was another, older term for it. Piracy.

Tom lifted the handset off the wall cradle. "What's the captain's number?"

Don grudgingly told him the number for the bridge and waited as Tom dialled.

"Captain?" Tom said as the call was answered. He listened for a moment then appeared to change his mind, covering the microphone. He held the handset out to his prisoner. "They're just getting her. You convince her to come down here. Alone."

Don started to his feet but changed his mind when Spinks cocked his gun and shook his head. Instead the agent scooted over on the deck to take the handset from Tom's hand. His breath caught briefly as Tom's gun settled on his temple.

"_Dylan_." The woman's voice came from the phone speaker.

"Lieutenant, this is Don."

"_How are you all doing down there? Not too rough for you I hope? Another couple of hours or so and we should be right_." She said cheerfully.

"Lieutenant, I need to see you for a minute."

"_Just a little bit busy at the moment_."

"I'm sure, but this is important." Don said. Tom's gun pressed a little harder. "Official business."

Don could feel her thinking that over. She knew he was here as a tag-along with his brother. _What could suddenly be official business in the middle of the ocean when she knew he had no contact with shore?_ He could almost hear the thoughts.

"_What is it?_" She asked after a second or so.

"Come down to the crew quarters. I'll meet you there."

"_This better be good, Agent_." Her voice was not so cheerful now. She had eighteen people, nineteen including herself, to keep safe.

"Yeah, it's good." Don said as she hung up. Tom took the handset back.

"Back over there, Fed." Tom ordered flicking his gun towards the corner where Don had been sitting. "Cam, watch him."

Don scooted back and sat where he was directed. Cam shifted his position on the bunk so that he was sitting with his knee against Don's left shoulder wedging the agent into the corner. Don felt an additional pressure on his shoulder and looked down to see the muzzle of Cam's gun resting there. _This was so not good_. Hopefully Dylan would come up with something. He was sure she would be released to follow their demands while they kept him under their guns.

A few minutes later there was a knock from down the corridor and a soft voice calling out, "Agent Eppes?" The lieutenant would have gone to the cabin she had assigned to their group.

Tom nodded at him as he unlatched the door. Don reluctantly called out: "In here, Lieutenant."

A couple of seconds later the door slid aside. Tom reached out grabbed a slim wrist and pulled the lieutenant into the now crowded room. Cabins on 87' coastal patrol boats weren't all that large to start with and now there were five of them crowded into this one.

"What the-?" The lieutenant exclaimed as Tom slammed the door shut behind her and latched it. She saw the guns and fell silent.

"Sorry, Lieutenant." Don apologised.

She noted the small trickle of blood down his chin from his split lip. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. Got the jump on me."

"What do they want?"

"Sit." Tom ordered. The lieutenant had been keeping her balance with practiced grace, holding onto a shelf bolted to the wall. Tom was not so skilful and didn't want the Coast Guard officer standing over him.

The lieutenant lowered herself until she sat cross legged beside Don waiting to find out what was going on. Tom explained his plan. "Ringing your friends is easy enough." She said when he finished. "But if they are still out there it is too dangerous to do a ship-to-ship transfer in these seas."

"You did it before."

"That was a rescue." The lieutenant explained. "It's dark now, plus the conditions further out are worsening and will be beyond our rating soon." They were rated up to Sea State 5, but the low pressure system that had suddenly decided to spin up out of nothing was threatening to rapidly push the classification up a peg or two.

"I don't care what your rating is."

"You should. I hope your friends have headed inshore, otherwise they are going to be in trouble soon."

"That's why we're gonna ring them." Tom said. "Can you patch it through to here?"

"No. You have to ring from the bridge."

"Then that's what we'll do."

Don and the Coast Guard officer exchanged glances. Don had expected orders to be given and the officer released. He hadn't expected Tom to go with the lieutenant to the bridge. But Tom would have to be the one to make the call, Don knew that a call from the lieutenant, _'Hi, this is the Coast Guard can we have your lat. and long.?'_ would only make the other boat disappear.

Tom seemed to understand their real concern. Once this little scenario became common knowledge it was going to be difficult for them to control everyone on the boat. They needed to push that eventuality off for as long as they could. He dug into their bag and pulled out a light sweater. He tucked his gun away into his belt and pulled the sweater on over the top, concealing it. "We find out where they are and head their way."

"Not if they are further out to sea." She flat refused.

"Cam."

Cam cocked his gun and put it to the side of Don's head.

"Not even if you threaten to shoot him." Lieutenant Dylan insisted. Her eyes apologised to Don before she turned back to Tom. "I have everyone on this boat to worry about, including you. If they are out further it is too dangerous. You'll have to think of something else."

"Listen to her Tom." Don supported the Coast Guard officer, he had Charlie to think about as well as the students. They weren't paid to take risks like this. "I think you're making a mistake. Cam here had the better idea, let's just head inshore and I'll make sure you get away safely."

"Too late now. We have to let her go and she'll radio it in." Tom said, smart enough to know he couldn't stay with her on the bridge, nor could they hold her here, without giving the game away.

"Not if you tell her not to." While they were stuck out at sea it didn't really matter if she radioed her shore base, it would take too long to get the LAPD's water police or any other nearby Coast Guard vessel into the area. It would only be an issue if they headed in.

Tom seemed to consider it for a moment but then discarded the idea. "I think we're safer out here. Let's go."

That was a relative term if ever Don had heard one. He shared another glance with Lieutenant Dylan before she stood.

"Don't do anything stupid, Agent. This is my boat and I don't want a fire fight on board." Lieutenant Dylan ordered.

"No, Ma'am." With one gun above decks on her and the other two on him, one of which was still against his head, there wasn't anything he could do anyway. When Tom came back after his call the odds would be three-to-one against Don. It was her boat, her command and her play to resolve this. Besides, if he was incapacitated as a hostage Tom and his friends would look elsewhere for leverage, starting with the civilians on the mess deck. No, he would watch and wait.

The door slid shut behind the lieutenant and Tom. Spinks locked the latch. Finally Cam moved his gun away from the side of Don's head and released the hammer. Don resisted the temptation to rub the side of his head where the muzzle had rested. Another 'pothole' and the _Seahawk_ shuddered again. Don was relieved that hadn't happened a few seconds earlier although he was reasonably sure Cam's gun still had the safety on.

"Where are your handcuffs, Fed?" Spinks demanded.

_Oh, no. His backpack_. Don didn't want them getting hold of another gun. "In my SUV at the marina."

"Yeah, sure." Spinks wasn't convinced.

Spinks lunged forward and swung his gun. Don tried but despite his best effort to duck the weapon still caught him on the temple. Don blinked through the sudden tears caused by the stinging pain, raising his right hand to touch the wound caused by the gun sight. His fingers came away bloody. He looked back up. "This is a Coast Guard cutter, I didn't need my kit. You know I've got nothing." Don allowed a bitterness to creep into his voice. He waved his left hand at his own belt which had already been searched, bare of even his badge.

"That's right, you got nothin'." Spinks sneered.

Don knew he'd walked right into that one but it had done the trick, Spinks believed him. The man in question turned and dug into their bag. He came up with a windbreaker causing Don to frown wondering what he was up to. It all became clear as Spinks pulled the long cord from the hem. _Handcuffs_, Spinks had asked for, _he wanted to restrain their hostage_.

Spinks put his gun into the bag after passing a meaningful glance at Cam. Cam's gun came back up as Spinks knelt in front of the agent. Don raised his hands, wrists together before the man could ask. It was obvious what the drug runner wanted. As the cord was looped around his wrists Don clenched his fists against the tightness, tensing his wrists in an effort to slightly increase their diameter.

"Not too tight." Cam suddenly said to Don's surprise. He hardly expected him to care.

Spinks grunted and continued his work, pulling the cord as tight as he could. Don winced and hissed through his teeth as the thin cord bit painfully into his wrists, cutting off all circulation.

"Anton," Cam said warningly. "Not so tight. You'll cause permanent damage."

"What do I care about damaging a fed? You know how much he cost me?"

"I know you don't care, but they do. If they see his hands going black they'll act. Loosen it off."

"They're not gonna see." Spinks protested but undid the knots and jerked roughly at the cord, loosening the loops. Don's hands suddenly flushed pink as the circulation was restored. Spinks retied the knots and moved back a little.

Don relaxed his hands and twisted his wrists cautiously, testing to be sure he had full circulation. The cord was still tight enough that he wouldn't be pulling his hands loose. He couldn't work on the knots either whilst he was being watched. He was glad Cam had him pinned into the corner, with his hands bound he wouldn't be able to keep his balance so well.

Concentrating on his wrists Don didn't see it coming, the punch snapping his head back to connect solidly with the wall, two hits for the price of one. For the second time that evening he saw stars and automatically raised his arms, forearms together to shield his face from the next blow as Spinks drew his fist back. He caught a secondary hit to his face as Spinks connected with his forearms. Don's knees started to come up as he tried to roll himself into a ball but in his dazed state he wasn't quick enough, the next couple of punches breaking through his defence to reach his stomach and solar plexus. He curled up coughing, taking the next hit on his side, dangerously close to the sensitive kidney.

He couldn't fight back, not with Dylan now under threat from Tom. All he could do was try to protect himself as best he could. He pushed himself as tightly into the corner trying to protect his back and kidneys. He dimly heard Cam call out: "Anton, stop."

After one more blow, this time getting past his forearms to strike the side of head, the attack stopped. Don didn't move. He kept his hands up over his head, forearms protecting his face, knees up against his chest and back pressed into the corner. He sat there, panting and coughing as he tried to keep his dinner down and hoped the stars would go away soon. The violence was expected. Spinks had spent six months on remand before being released on the technicality. He now had one of the agent's responsible at his mercy. Spinks wasn't brave enough to take on an armed agent, but a helpless one? _Yeah, he was brave enough for that_.

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_A/N: Things seem to be going from bad to worse. Thanks for all the reviews!_


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer** – I don't own them, I just borrowed them. Numb3rs and its characters are the property of those that created them. No copyright infringement intended. All real organisations are used in a fictional sense. Original characters and the storyline are mine however.

_CHAPTER THREE_

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After a minute or two Don finally lowered his arms and risked a look to see where Spinks was. He could feel Cam's knee back against his shoulder so he knew where that man was. Cam wasn't the threat at the moment, Spinks was. Don found the threat sitting on the bunk nearest the door, a grin on his face, rubbing at the reddened knuckles on his right hand. He was happy at his handiwork.

After a brief glare which only caused Spinks' grin to widen Don looked away, not wanting to add to the drug runner's enjoyment of the moment. He carefully touched his face where Spinks' first punch had connected. His left cheek was stinging and starting to swell. He would be lucky if his eye didn't close up, but that along with the knot on the back of his head were fortunately the worst of his injuries. For the moment at least. He expected more of the same if Cam couldn't keep Spinks in line. Either way he was going to have a good collection of bruises for the next week or so both from Spinks' assault and from the earlier attack in the corridor. To his probing fingers the gash to his forehead from Spinks' gun didn't seem too bad and the bleeding should ease soon. Head wounds were always messy, the blood was already dripping onto his jeans. He brushed the side of his head against his sleeve to wipe some of the blood away.

As he seemed to be safe from Spinks for the moment Don stretched his legs back out to better keep his balance and pressed his bruised arms to his aching stomach. What he couldn't figure out though, was why Cam had stopped Spinks. But, finding that he wasn't really up to deep thoughts yet Don let it go as he tried to get his strength back.

The steady tone of the _Seahawk's_ twin diesels suddenly dropped and Don felt the vessel lose way and start to wallow. A few minutes later the engine tone rose along with the _Seahawk's_ speed until they were going somewhat faster than before. The motion of the vessel also changed, both from the increase in speed and the new angle that they were taking the seas, they were on a new heading.

There was a knock on the door a few more minutes later and Tom's voice asking to be let in. Anton slid the door open and let his boss in. "What happened?"

Tom glanced at their hostage before doing a double take at the agent's battered state. "That's what I want to know. He have a go?"

"No." Cam said when Spinks smirked.

Tom turned back to Spinks. "We need him in one piece. When we're on the other boat you can dump him over the side for all I care, but leave him alone for now." The fact that they would be taking the agent with them was a foregone conclusion, without him the Coast Guard would be free to open fire with their .50 cal deck guns.

Don didn't miss the light in Spinks' eyes at Tom's suggestion to toss him overboard. Spinks obviously hadn't thought of that and sure seemed to like the idea. In these conditions he would drown long before he could possibly be found. He really hoped Dylan came up with a plan sooner rather than later, she was sure to have realised his life expectancy was short if he was transferred.

"So what happened?" Cam asked, repeating Spinks' question.

"I got onto Carlos and got their new position. They'd already started to head south as close as they dared to the coast. Our good captain decided to play along. Carlos is gonna turn back to meet us."

"Just like that, Carlos is going to meet us?" Cam didn't seem to believe it would be that easy. Neither did Don. "He knows we're on a Coast Guard boat, right?"

"Yeah, he's not happy." Tom admitted. "It's gonna cost us double and we won't get any gear, but he'll get us south of the border."

"Why did we stop?" Spinks demanded.

"The captain cut loose our boat. We're in a hurry."

"How'd she explain that to the crew?" Cam wondered.

"FBI emergency." Tom jerked his chin at their prisoner.

"Aren't they going to figure it out when he doesn't show?"

"Nah. She made this deck off limits, said he was working on some stuff. That's the beauty of paramilitary outfits, they follow the leader."

That would work for the crew and the students but Don knew that Charlie was probably pestering the lieutenant for details. He thought she would tell him the real story in an effort to make sure he kept his head down. The last thing Don wanted was this lot to find out his baby brother was on board. That went double for Spinks.

"How long?" Cam asked.

"About half an hour or so. Carlos had made a run straight inshore to avoid the weather before turning south. He's not that far away."

"How will we know when we've found them?"

Don stared at Spinks, _when we stop, idiot_. By Tom's expression he was thinking the same thing as he told his man that the captain would ring their cabin.

"So what d'ya think, Fed?" Spinks gloated. "Ready for a trip to Mexico?"

"Sounds more like I'm going swimming."

"Yeah." Spinks laughed.

Tom frowned at their hostage's resigned tone. He remembered off handedly making the suggestion but hadn't thought that the agent would take it to heart. But then there really weren't any other options. "You think you're gonna die, but you're not gonna give us trouble. Why not?"

"Not too hard to figure it out." Don said calmly. To protect Charlie he would do anything.

"He doesn't want us to take one of the college kids instead." Cam reasoned. "You can't let Anton kill him."

"What the hell else are we gonna to do with him?"

_Hey, right here in the room!_ Don wanted to say but kept his mouth shut. For reasons he couldn't fathom Cam was on his side again.

"He's a goddamn fed! We kill him and we may as well just save everyone the trouble and shoot ourselves." Cam argued heatedly. "This whole thing has gone pear-shaped. If we had left well enough alone we would be stepping off this boat at the marina with no-one any the wiser."

"Carlos ain't gonna want to take him with us very far."

"I don't care what Carlos wants." Spinks said jumping up and delivering a savage kick to Don's outstretched leg. "Six months of my life. He's mine!"

_Oh, yeah, definitely brave when the object of his hatred can't fight back_. _Yet_. Tom had been right, he wasn't going to resist. But if he did get taken to the other boat they were going to find that their hostage was no longer compliant, that their guns would no longer be sufficient to keep him under control. Spinks was going to have a hard time exacting his revenge. Don fully intended to make a good account for himself, taking as many of them with him as he could. But for now…

Don suffered a second vicious kick to his thigh before he managed to pull his knees back up to his chest and made himself a smaller target. His injured leg responded more slowly. The next kick got him on the shin, numbing his foot. He anticipated more as Spinks had progressed from punches to kicks. He tucked himself firmly back into a ball. Although he still hoped Dylan would resolve this, he was glad that if it didn't work out he'd had this one last day with Charlie.

"Leave it." Tom ordered, pulling Spinks back before he could kick the agent again, shoving the other man back onto the bunk. "Plenty of time for that later."

Half an hour or so before his fate was decided. Nothing he could do until then. Don looped his arms around his legs as best he could with his bound wrists before resting his head on his knees. Cam had so far done a good job of keeping him wedged into the corner, he was going to rely on him to keep doing that. He took some deep breaths as he tried to relax. He wasn't going to let on to the drug runners, keeping silent and refusing to cry out when he was punched or kicked, but to himself he could admit that he was hurting. He closed his eyes.

The gentle buzz of the phone broke Don out of his almost meditative state and stopped the men's conversation. Tom answered it on the second buzz. "Get down here." He ordered after listening.

"What?" Spinks demanded.

"Carlos is quarter of a mile away, but not stopping for us until he hears from me again. I'm going back up. Get ready to move."

A couple of minutes later Don heard Lieutenant Dylan's voice at the door. Tom stepped outside and started to slide the door shut. A slim hand appeared on the edge of the door stopping its movement. "I'm not leaving until I see Agent Eppes."

The agent in question looked up as the _Seahawk's_ captain pushed her way past Tom into the cabin. "I'm still here, Lieutenant."

Her mouth dropped opened at his sorry condition. She rounded on Tom. "What have you done to him?"

"He's still alive, that's all that matters." Tom said harshly. He grabbed her by the upper arm, pulling her back into corridor. "Let's go. We've got a boat to catch."

The door slid shut again as Don finally realised that the cutter wasn't pitching as much, they must have finally reached calmer water making a ship-to-ship transfer more of a possibility.

It was about fifteen minutes later when the phone buzzed. It was answered by Spinks who listened briefly before hanging up. He stepped over and kicked Don's foot, the one that had been numb but had since regained feeling. "Get up."

Don needed Cam's help, he had stiffened up considerably since he'd curled himself up into a ball in the corner. His leg protested when he put his weight on it but he was sure it was just bruised and should loosen up with use. Spinks reached over and pulled Don roughly to him by the arm.

"I'll take him. You get the bag." Spinks ordered. He wasn't about to let someone else look after his prize.

As Spinks pushed him out of the cabin Don hoped Charlie was tucked away safely somewhere and wouldn't see whatever was about to transpire. About a million things could go wrong in the next few minutes. They stopped at the base of the companion-way to the mess deck. Cam went up first, gun out and ready.

"There's no one here, come up." Cam called out a moment later.

Spinks shoved Don forward, following close behind as Don climbed up. As his head cleared the deck Don looked anxiously around and confirmed that they were alone, the mess deck was clear. No sign of Charlie or the other students anywhere. Cam helped him the rest of the way up, keeping him steady until Spinks once again took hold of his upper right arm. Spinks was now pressing the muzzle of his gun into Don's right side. They moved aft until they stopped at the door leading out to the rear deck.

The whole area was floodlit by the _Seahawk's_ powerful lights. Another light was aimed astern where it picked up the shape of a large black power boat about fifty yards away as it rose on a wave before disappearing in the next trough. Two of the _Seahawk's_ crewmen stood ready next to the mini-dock where the zodiac was waiting, one to launch it and one to drive it. The stern hull section was raised and all was in readiness. Both vessels were still underway, but only just enough to maintain steerage.

"Where's Tom?" Spinks asked.

"There."

They looked up and saw Tom descending the stern ladder to the deck from the bridge. He was following Lieutenant Dylan, Tom's gun now out and obvious. Tom turned and saw them waiting. He waved them out with his spare hand.

"Open it." Spinks ordered.

Don pulled on the latch and slid the door sideways, stepping through the opening and down to the slightly lower outside deck whilst Spinks maintained a tight grip on his upper arm. They moved the couple of yards to stop near Tom. Don looked back as Cam initially followed then hung back, seemingly reluctant to leave the cover of the bridge overhang. Don's eyes narrowed, there was something in the way that Cam was holding his gun, the way he was assessing the immediate area, weapon tracking his roving gaze.

The agent turned back to the Coast Guard officer, searching her face for a clue as to what might happen next. There was nothing and Don got a sinking feeling.

"As soon as we send your zodiac back you are to turn back to LA and keep going." Tom instructed the lieutenant.

"What about Agent Eppes?"

"He's coming with us."

"You don't need to take him." She argued waving a hand at the black power boat. "I know that boat, it can outrun us. She's done it before."

"It can't outrun your guns."

"Your friends are holding astern of us. Our deck guns are mounted on the forward deck." She explained. "We wouldn't be able to bring them to bear before you were out of range."

Don awarded the point to her. Tom seemed to be considering the lieutenants argument and glanced at Spinks. Despite his earlier words Don suddenly got the feeling that Tom really didn't want to take on the fallout of murdering a federal agent.

"We're taking him." Spinks insisted, tightening his grip and shoving his gun harder against the agent's ribs. Although the agent had been his prisoner for only a short time Spinks had grown attached to the idea of revenge and wasn't going to let it go so easily.

A moment of silent communication passed between Tom and Spinks. Tom finally nodded and turned back to the lieutenant. "He's coming with us."

Don realised something was missing. _Where was Cam?_ Don had expected the man to argue the point, siding with the agent as he had already done a couple of times before. Don turned his head, searching. He finally saw that Cam was still under the bridge overhang and had stepped sideways slightly putting himself into the shadows under the stern ladder. It was starting to get way odd.

"Let's go." Spinks started to head to the stern, dragging Don with him.

The lieutenant suddenly dropped like she'd been hit. Don blinked, he hadn't heard a shot. The next thing he knew he also hit the deck, his legs swept out from under him by Dylan. Spinks had been unable to hold his hostage's sudden weight, his grip torn loose. Now came the shot, several shots.

--

_A/N: This is a short story, only one chapter to go._


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer** – I don't own them, I just borrowed them. Numb3rs and its characters are the property of those that created them. No copyright infringement intended. All real organisations are used in a fictional sense. Original characters and the storyline are mine however.

_A/N: Here it is, the final installment in this short tale._

_CHAPTER FOUR_

-100-1111-1110-

Don lay on the deck face down and automatically started counting the sharp reports that he identified as rifle fire. He reached five before there was silence again. He raised his head and looked around, seeing Tom and Spinks lying on the deck nearby. They both appeared to still be alive. Even closer was a discarded gun. Don scrabbled for it, wrapping his bound hands around the butt as he rolled onto his back. He lifted his upper body, aiming towards the shadows under the stern ladder where he'd last seen Cam.

Don found his target. Cam was standing in a classic shooter's stance, weapon punched forwards, knees bent and braced a shoulder width apart. A Mexican standoff with only three yards separating them. Neither of them could miss at this range. Suddenly Cam's aim jerked to one side as he fired. Don heard a second shot at the same time, followed by a dull thud. He glanced behind him to see Spinks drop back dead to the deck. His gun hand outstretched towards Don. The agent realised that Spinks had been about to shoot him and that Cam had fired to prevent that. The second shot must have come from the Coast Guard crew. He now saw two crewmen, M16s held ready, appear from cover.

Don snapped his head back towards Cam. First things first. "Drop your weapon!"

"Steady, Agent." Cam said. He lifted his arms away from his body allowing the pistol to swing around in his hand until it was hanging by the trigger guard from a finger. Cam dropped to his knees. "DEA."

_What? Now it all started to make sense._ However, until the man was disarmed and identities could be confirmed he was still to be treated as a bad guy. "Toss the gun." Don ordered.

Cam obeyed the instruction then lowered himself until he was laying face down, hands clasped behind his head. Don awkwardly climbed to his feet and limped quickly over to the prone man, dropping down with a knee landing hard on Cam's back eliciting a grunt. He pressed his borrowed gun hard into the back of Cam's neck.

"DEA!" Cam protested.

"Not until I see ID." Don replied. He looked back up and watched as the two crewmen armed with M16s secured Spinks and Tom. The two crewman who'd been near the zodiac were approaching rapidly and were now carrying 9mm pistols. They relieved Don of Cam, flex-cuffing his wrists together behind his back.

Don moved out of the way as they lifted Cam to his feet. One crewman reached out a hand and Don surrendered his borrowed gun.

"Agent?" Lieutenant Dylan called. She appeared in front of him, holding up a pocket knife, blade extended.

Don held out his bound wrists allowing her to cut through the cord, releasing him and revealing angry red welts. Don started to rub his wrists but stopped as the movement was too painful. "Thanks."

He remembered the other boat and looked astern to see only fading foam where it had been. It was gone and the _Seahawk_ was not giving chase.

It was ten minutes later and the _Seahawk_ was back underway, heading for shore. The body of Spinks had been wrapped and secured in the zodiac, with the stern section lowered back into place this was the safest area to keep the body. Tom had been roughly patched up, flex-cuffed and was being held below in a cabin under guard by two armed crewmen. Cam was seated at a mess table under the watchful eyes of Lieutenant Dylan and another crewman. A second crewman with an M16 stood guard at rear of the mess deck. Every member of the Coast Guard crew that Don had seen over the last ten minutes had been armed. Dylan was now no exception, her 9mm in a holster at her side.

The students were taking seats on the opposite side of the mess deck, watching with wide open eyes everything that was going on. This was turning out to be some day trip for them. Charlie and the students had been hidden in the chartroom whilst the action had taken place and had only just been let out. Don was resting with a hot cup of tea at the next table over from Cam when his younger brother first saw him.

"Don!"

"Hey, buddy. You all right?"

Charlie's hands fluttered, wanting to touch his brother's injuries but not daring. The medic had just minutes earlier turned his attention to Don so now he sported a gauze pad on his temple to offset the developing black eye. The blood had been wiped from his face but dried blood remained on his jeans and right sleeve. There wasn't anything the medic could do about the welts on Don's wrists so they were fully visible to the younger man. Charlie was incredulous at his brother's question. "Me? What about you, are you alright?"

"I'm fine."

"But-" Charlie started, still hovering.

"Charlie, sit." Don reached out a hand and pulled him down onto the seat next to him but on the opposite side away from Cam. "Shush." He wanted to hear what was happening at the next table.

"You're DEA?'' Dylan started.

"Yes, Ma'am."

"You have any ID?"

"Not hardly." Cam leant forward carefully, flex-cuffed hands still locked behind him. "Look, ring my handler, he'll confirm everything."

"Whatever number you give me will probably just be more friends of yours, willing to say anything to get you off the hook." Dylan stated, not yet willing to believe him.

Don for his part however, did. It made sense, Cam arguing against the foolish attempt to hijack the _Seahawk_, suggesting a more reasonable and less hostile course of action. The man had stopped Spinks from getting carried away and beating him to a pulp. Cam had tried to convince Tom to spare his life if he was taken onto Carlos' boat. Cam, who had shot Spinks to save his life. The way he had taken cover under the bridge overhang, the way he held his weapon smacked of law enforcement training. Yeah, Don could believe that the man was DEA.

"I'll have my people check him out." Don offered.

"My cover name is Cam Dixon. My real name is Cameron Andrew Gideon, date of birth May 9th, 1979." Cam stated. "My handler is Denis Crispin."

Dylan scribbled the information down on a pad and handed it to Don. The FBI agent rose and made his slow, limping way up to the sat-phone on the bridge, his thigh badly corked. Charlie stayed in close attendance, helping him up the companion-way. Once he'd made the first call it took a little while for the confirmation to came back. Cam was who he said he was. The face that printed out on the _Seahawk's_ satellite fax machine confirmed it. Don and Charlie returned to the mess deck to see that nothing had changed.

Don thrust the piece of paper into Dylan's hands. "He's DEA."

Dylan looked at the photo and the details printed underneath it. She nodded at her crewman. "Get the cuffs off him."

The crewman produced a pair of snips and cut the flex-cuffs.

"Thanks." Cam said as he rubbed his wrists, the flex-cuffs had been applied a little tightly. "Sorry Agent Eppes, I couldn't break cover sooner."

"I know." Don said. Thinking back he saw that there had been no time when Cam would have been able to pull them both out with any real chance of success.

"And the gun thing, I-"

"Don't worry about it. I understand." He didn't like it but at least now he could be 100 sure that the safety had been on when Cam had put the gun to his head and cocked it.

"I'll be letting your people know what you were willing to do."

Don glanced at his brother who had been listening closely. "Don't mention it." He didn't want Charlie to know would have unresistingly gone to the drug runner's boat, despite the certainty of death waiting. He would have done anything to avoid another hostage being taken, possibly even his brother.

"What were you going to do, Don?" Charlie had caught the glance.

"It doesn't matter Charlie."

"Yes it does. What were you going to do?"

"It never happened. It doesn't matter. Just leave it."

Cam opened his mouth but changed his mind at the FBI agent's glare. There was a subtext here he didn't quite get. He hadn't made the connection between the college professor and the agent.

"How long were you in?" Don asked to change the subject.

"Eight months."

"Who were you working on?"

"Torrenz."

"Oh." Don knew that name. Torrenz was believed to be the biggest importer of drugs for California, possibly the biggest for the entire western seaboard. This was a major operation that had now been blown.

"Don't sweat it. I couldn't, ah-" Cam stopped looking at the professor then back to the former hostage. "You know."

"Yeah. I owe you one." Now he knew why Cam had hung back under the bridge overhang and tried to take shelter in the shadows, he had been about to try to take down Tom and Spinks himself.

It was two hours later when they finally reached the marina and tied up amongst a sea of flashing red and blue lights. Don had reported the whole incident to his office when he'd done his checks on Cam. The FBI had decided to leave the Coast Guard to run the show, it had happened on their boat at sea after all. Don's role now was that of a witness so he stood back and kept out of the way as Tom was escorted off the cutter by the crew and placed into an ambulance under LAPD guard. He was on his way to surgery to remove a couple of bullets, the injuries non life-threatening.

Don was next, Dylan and Charlie both insisting that he be checked over by the second set of waiting EMTs. Their diagnosis was the same as his, painful bruising but nothing broken. As usual they tried to make him go to hospital to be checked by a doctor. Don figured that EMTs must get a prize if they hit some magic quota of patients delivered to hospital for the shift. He stubbornly refused to accede to their demands. They settled for gently applying some cream to the welts on his wrists, and reapplied some gauze over the gash to his forehead. As to the rest of his injuries there was nothing else to do but let them all heal up naturally. Don added some fingermark bruises on his upper right arm to his catalogue of injuries.

His left eye hadn't quite closed up but he was too stiff and sore to drive safely so Don handed his SUV keys to Charlie when Dylan told them they could go. The students had already been released. They would all have to return in the morning to give their statements, but for now it was well and truly time to go home and rest.

"Remind me never to play poker with you." Don told the Coast Guard officer as they started to leave. He had been so sure that there was no last minute rescue plan based on her lack of expression. "You have the best poker face I've seen in a long time!"

"That sounds like a challenge, Agent Eppes."

"Call me Don, please."

"Then it's Sarah. And it still sounds like a challenge."

"We'll take you up on that." Charlie piped up. His older brother was currently between girlfriends at the moment and Charlie was sure that the Coast Guard officer was the right sort for him. He'd seen the looks Don had been casting her way all day.

"Charlie!" Don protested, seeing right through his brother's manoeuvring.

"Dinner, tomorrow night." Charlie insisted. He scrawled his address on the back of his business card and handed it over.

"It's a date."

-1-1100-1-1110-

Alan woke up as he heard Don's SUV pull up in the driveway. He tossed the newspaper aside as he stood and stretched to work the kinks out. Sleeping in the chair was not so good on his old bones. He hadn't meant to fall asleep, Millie had gone and he'd settled to read the paper for a few minutes before heading up to bed. He knew the boys were going to be late after Charlie had called and wasn't worried. He checked the clock, it was just after one in the morning. He went to the door and opened it but left the porch light off as he didn't want to disturb the neighbours.

"So you boys finally made it. Did you have a nice day?" Alan stopped and stared as he watched Charlie climb out of the driver's side of the large black SUV. That was wrong, Don never let Charlie drive his FBI suburban.

"Hey, Dad." Don said sounding tired, limping his way around the front of the SUV from the passenger side, backpack slung over his shoulder.

Alan flipped on the porch light, _neighbours be damned_, and saw the bruises and the gauze pad on his eldest son's face, the stiff way that he moved, the limp. The dark brown blotches on his sleeve and jeans. "Oh, my god!"

"I'm okay." Don insisted.

His eldest didn't look okay, leaning on Charlie to make it up the stairs to the porch. Alan ushered them both inside before closing the door. He helped Charlie get Don to the couch and settled. Charlie sat beside his older brother as Alan remained standing. Another thing caught his eye, _were they rope burns on Donny's wrists?_

"You were on a Coast Guard boat for God's sake! What could possibly have happened to you?"

END

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_A/N: It may be a while before my next story, I have a mental block at the moment and visitors at home cutting into available time. I will be back. This is a lot of fun. Once again, thanks for all the reviews._


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